Repentance
by MzMoon
Summary: Half woman, half monster. Can Yumiko allow Yumie to continue to be released? In the end, will she even have a choice? M for graphic violence and language.
1. Repent

_"HEATHEN BASTARD!"_

The katana moved as a blur, razor edge cutting cleanly through the heathen's gun arm. It fell to the floor with a sick plop, and the man yelled. Screaming and moaning, he stumbled back against the wall, red running down the white plaster. The tip of her blade whipped around to rest behind her, and she could feel the blood rising in her veins. Yumie crouched down, then launched forward with a yell, adding to the man's terror. Her grin of fervor changed to puzzlement as she was brought up short. A glance over her shoulder confirmed that her weapon had sliced through the wall and jammed.

She released the handle, and shrugged. "I'll have to do this myself." Like lightning, the berserker threw herself onto the half-dead heathen, fingers fastening around his throat. He sputtered as she tightened a grip that was already like iron, and smiled in his face. Quietly, she whispered, "Repent." The word held the hissing edge of madness. He continued to cough, turning a delightful shade of purple. She blinked, pulled him away from the smooth surface, and then smashed his fragile skull into it with resounding force.

"Repent."

His head met the vivid crimson-splattered white, his face blue, his skull cracked.

"Repent!"

No answer from the idiot, so she did it again.

"REPENT!"

Splatters of bright scarlet landed on her cheeks.

**"REPENT!"**

Again and again, over and over, her arm became a frantic machine, crushing the life out of him. Soon all traces of plaster-blankness were obscured by ruby splashes. It ran into a puddle at her feet, soaking the stupid stockings that Yumiko insisted on wearing. They looked better red anyway. Then again, how DARE he bleed on her!

So she did it some more.

His throat turned to so much leaky meat, and his shattered cranium crunched with each blow. He'd wet himself at some point, and the stench only added to her excitement. "Die. In. Fear. Of. God. Heathen." Yumie punctuated each word with a slam. She detested those that opposed their Lord and sinned. And oh, how she loved bringing them to justice. Killing in His name was the ultimate opiate. She began to laugh in pure, undiluted joy, the sound of mirth sharply filling the small living room. The constant smack of raw meat on wood proved to be the perfect accompaniment.

"YUMIE! STOP, YUMIE!"

The voice was distant, so she ignored it. If it got in her way she would kill it. No one opposed divine justice. Rough hands seized her and yanked, forcing her to drop the corpse. They whirled her around and slammed her into the opposite wall, then shook her. "Vat the Hell are you DOING, YUMIE? He ist dead!" Yumie only continued laughing, all thought of killing her assailant gone. It was just Heinkel. Her 'partner' shook her again, eyes wide, expression panicked… and fearful. "GET AHOLD OF YOURSELF! VAKE UP YUMIKO!"  
  
Yumiko shot up out of a deep sleep, tears streaming down her face. She shivered, the blurry room shifting around her. One of her frail hands gripped the sheet, white-knuckled, and the other lifted to shakily wipe the water from her eyes. Queasiness shifted in her gut, forcing her to stumble out of bed in the semi-darkness. The sister only just made it to the toilet in time.

It seemed like the retching would last forever. Every time she came close to finishing, she'd see the poor man's broken face again. Then the sickness would start again. Eventually there was nothing left to bubble up in her throat, and she weakly knelt in front of the bowl, then smacked the lever with a quivering hand. The crashing gurgling seemed like the loudest thing she'd ever heard, aside from Yumie's laughter. Absently, she wondered if the noise would wake anybody up. She sincerely hoped not. Weakly, the young woman rose to her feet. She staggered over to the bathtub, and turned a knob. The braid that confined her hair at night had released half of the locks it was meant to contain, and the strands stuck to her sweat-soaked brow. Yumiko pushed them away, and padded back into her tiny room while the teensy bathtub filled. She curled up in her bed, squeezing her eyes shut and listening to the reassuring thunder of the tap. _Just a dream. I'm sure it didn't happen like that. _

A lump formed in her stomach, and her pulse increased. Despite herself, she was frightened… and her glasses were across the room. The familiar rage swirled in her heart, the predator beneath the surface.

_-But Yumiko, it **did** happen just like that. -_

Yumiko screamed out loud, throwing herself from the narrow bed and onto the cold floor. In a blind panic, she crashed to the other side of the room, knocking the contents of her little table to the floor in her rush for her lenses. Her hands flew over the scattered items on the ground, over broken glass and smooth wood. Her hands fastened upon the two pieces of thin glass that would be her savior, and a sharp pain sprouted in her finger.

Time froze as blood welled up in the little nick.

Something had broken, and Yumiko had cut herself on it. She only had time to feel the drop of blood roll down the tip of her index finger before everything began to fade to black. _NO!_ The anger and viciousness poured up and out, pushing the sweet nun into a prison made of her own mind. **_NO!_** She screamed and cried, fought and pulled. Her body remained frozen as Yumiko battled for her own sanity. _No, Yumie, it's okay! I'm fine! I'm safe, and we're not working! Go to sleep! PLEASE!_

_- No. I can feel it. You're frightened. –_

_No! YUMIE!_

Her world faded to black, a floating darkness she couldn't escape. When Yumie had first started appearing, the darkness had scared her, and she'd kicked and yelled and cried. Then, slowly she'd come to realize why. This darkness was God's gift to her, because He loved her. He spared her from the agony of watching Yumie work. He'd put them in one body, and then protected her, and she loved Him for it. This way His will be done, both her part and Yumie's. So she spent that time praying, pleading for the souls of those men and women she could only guess were dieing at her own hands.

But then at night, the dreams came.

Visions of blood and viscera, of all the men and women Yumie had sent to judgment. Yumiko knew each one had done something evil, something terrible. They didn't send her and Heinkel to take care of jaywalkers. Still, Yumie's thoughts and deeds haunted her come nightfall, destroying her, plaguing her with guilt. This was God's way of reminding her that death was not glorious. The lesson seemed lost on Yumie, however. Yumie loved every second of it. Yumiko let her consciousness sleep, now that the situation was far out of her hands.

And in Rome, Yumie opened her eyes.

* * *

Heinkel was woken by a crash.

She leapt out of bed, grabbing her belt that hung on the bedpost. The gun was out of its holster in an instant, and then the strip of leather slid from her fingers to pool on the floor with the faint clank of a buckle. The woman threw her back against the cold wall, and slowly reached to her left with her free hand, and flicked on the light. She swung the pistol to point at the middle of the room, then her hand darted to each corner. Clear.

Silently, she strode on bare feet to her bathroom door, then threw it open. Again, nothing. _Vat the Hell?_ Heinkel padded over to her bed, and slipped into her boots. Then swiftly, she opened the door that led out into the hall, and covered it in both directions. Completely clear. She let the firearm fall to her side, and raked a hand through her sleep-mussed hair. _Am I overreacting? It vas just some sleeping brother tossing und turning. Nothing to be so vorried about._ Heinkel was about to turn and go back to sleep, when a muffled curse sounded from Yumiko's room.

The gun snapped back up, as did the assassin's eyebrows. _No gute nonne uses that kind of language. Oh, mein Gott. _

She carefully pressed her back against the wall next to Yumiko's door, then slowly reached out and turned the knob. It clicked, locked. All scuffling in the room stopped, and Heinkel distinctly heard the faint whisper of steel. _It can't be…_ "Yumie? Ist that you?"

Silence, and then, "Heinkel?" That was not Yumiko's voice. Something had happened.

"Da. Let me in, vill you?"

"Oh, yeah." There was shuffling, and then some mild cursing as Yumie fiddled with the lock. Heinkel let herself slide down the wall a bit, and clicked the safety on her gun with a relieved sigh. _It vas just Yumie_. Well, 'just Yumie' was an understatement in any context. Heinkel tucked the pistol into the waistband of her pants just as the door swung open, and an agitated Yumie stood in the doorway. "Come in."

Heinkel did so, and carefully picked her way around a pile of shattered glass on the floor, exploding from underneath a facedown portrait. A cross lay discarded on the chilly wood, and Heinkel automatically picked it up and set it lovingly on the wobbly table. Yumie uncaringly crunched over the glass in her bare feet, and then tossed the unsheathed katana in her hand onto the bed. It landed next to its black sheath. Yumie stretched, and yanked the tie from her braided hair. Heinkel carefully moved the sword over, and sat on the bed, slightly hunched over her knees. "So, vat happened?"

"I'm not sure. Maybe she read a scary book or something equally stupid, then took off her glasses and cut herself. I don't know!" From the look on the berserker's face, she didn't really care. She then carelessly ripped her hair out of its braid, and the dark strands tumbled over the shoulders of her lavender nightgown. "That's better." The locks let off a faint sheen, healthy and glowing. "I really hate how she has to wear that stupid thing… a wimple?" Yumie turned, fixing her only friend with an imperialist gaze. Her dark halo swirled around her shoulders, coming to rest lightly-

"Heinkel, what the hell are you staring at?" The lighter-haired woman shook herself, embarrassed she'd forgotten her sunglasses. The lenses hid her stare from the world, giving her freedom in what she chose to examine. That, and it was rare Yumiko would allow Yumie to escape her when no one's life was endangered. Because of her status as a nun, Yumiko's hair remained hidden at almost all times… and when she was Yumie, the woman was moving so fast that one couldn't really see her. So normally, Heinkel didn't get to see the long, waving locks. She'd taken the opportunity to stare, and look where that'd gotten her.

"It's nothing." Yumie gave her the strangest look, and then shrugged.

"Whatever. What time is it?" Heinkel shook her head no. She hadn't checked her clock on her way out to investigate the disturbance. That had been the last thing on her mind. Yumie walked over and kicked the picture frame out of the way, then scanned the pile of items for a clock. She unearthed a small alarm clock, and groaned at the time. "It's four in the morning. What was she doing up at four in the morning?" Heinkel grunted, and then massaged a stiff shoulder through her white tank. This was going to be unpleasant.

She stood up, and gingerly sheathed the katana behind her. Yumie turned around, and regarded her with suspicion. "Heinkel, when are early morning prayers?" The other woman crunched over the glass, and lifted the battered spectacles from the floor, clearing dust from the lenses with a thumb. "Five."

Yumie's eyes widened, and she clenched a quivering fist. "You wouldn't."

Heinkel looked up at her with clear grey eyes, and replied in a weary tone, "Yumiko ist alvays at morgen prayer, Yumie. They vill come to check on her if she ist not there. So da, I vould." Yumie sighed, and moved close to her friend.

"Just a little while longer? You don't know what it's like, floating in that blackness, just KNOWING she's trying to get out of taking jobs, letting heathens run free. It makes my blood boil!" She clenched her teeth, and slammed her fist onto the worn table. Heinkel did not flinch.

"No, Yumie. She needs time to bathe und dress."

"I won't go quietly."

"I know, freund."

Yumie launched herself at Heinkel, throwing them both down onto the narrow cot. The berserker had Heinkel's hands pinned in the blink of an eye, and straddled her waist. She flashed a contented grin at the woman beneath her, but only realized too late the assassin was in motion. She drove a knee into Yumie's crotch, paired with a murmured, "Sorry." Yumie flinched, and Heinkel took the opportunity to throw herself forward, freeing her hands. She grabbed Yumie's head of dark hair, dragging it back, and messily slammed the spectacles onto the berserker's face. Yumie grabbed both of Heinkel's shoulders, and froze before she got the chance to shove her away.

Long seconds passed, and then Yumiko opened her eyes… and found herself nose-to-nose with Heinkel.

The heat rose in her cheeks as she realized what she was doing. Both of her hands were around Heinkel's shoulders, and she had her legs wrapped around the assassin's waist. She was practically in the other woman's lap. A weight at the back of her head revealed that Heinkel's hand was tangled in her hair. The reddening increased as neither moved. Heinkel let out a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding, and felt the stiffness leave her limbs. _Danken Sie Gott._ Then Yumiko shifted in her lap, yes, her lap, and Heinkel awoke to the rather compromising position they were in. Her cheeks flamed red as she unceremoniously shoved Yumiko off her, and stumbled out of the cot. The nun gasped as she tumbled onto the floor, and then surveyed the broken glass, and discarded katana. What happened?

"Sorry." Heinkel grunted as she awkwardly knelt down and retrieved her gun. It had fallen out of the waistband of her pajama pants in the scuffle with Yumie. "Morgen prayer ist in less than ein hour." She quickly strode over to the door, opened it, and said with her back turned, "You may vant to prepare, und I beleif your bath ist overflowing." Then she was gone.

The door shut softly, leaving a very confused nun on the floor of her cell.


	2. Contrition

A/N: I forgot all of this stuff in the first chapter, I was in such a rush to post it after I finished! Let's see... I wrote the first chapter based off a post I was composing for a roleplay. The post ended up a couple pages long, but it only actually appears in Chapter Two. (All of the content up to the first break.) This fiction is M for the violence, which is not my usual thing. I don't even read horror, but I decided to try my hand at writing it. I'd love any and all feedback, since the rating limits the amount of people who will end up reading this. That makes it particularly important... PLEASE leave a review. Thanks!

Lani Lenore: Thank you very much, I'm glad you're enjoying it! (Thanks for the review!)

Disclaimer: I do not own Hellsing. Hellsing is (c) Kohta Hirano.

* * *

"Any questions?" 

The office remained silent, neither of the two addressed holding any doubts about their mission plan. It was clear: infiltrate, destroy, and walk out as plain as day. No idiot could mess that up. Well, as far as Enrico Maxwell was concerned, this pair couldn't. They were killing machines… most of the time.

Yumiko sat in her chair, eyes wide, wringing her hands. _Not again. I told them never again. Why does this keep happening? _Foggy dreams of steel dripping red came back to haunt her… she wanted no more guilt. Nobody should have to die at Yumie's hands. It was too cruel.

"Good. Your car will be here in ten minutes or so. Show those monsters the mercy of Death himself." He walked out, chuckling. 'The mercy of Death' was a little "private joke" between the members of Section XIII, because Death has no mercy; neither do they. Yumiko was too absorbed in her own fears to see Maxwell go, and Heinkel remained leaning against the wall, arms crossed, sunglasses sliding down her nose.

They remained in silence for a moment, and then Yumiko couldn't stand it. "What'll I _do_, Heinkel? I... I don't want to kill anyone anymore." she sunk down a little farther in her stiff wooden chair, ovals of tears forming at the corners of her eyes. "I don't care WHAT they did, nobody deserves that kind of punishment." She put her face in her hands, and shuddered. "I don't want anymore nightmares." She quietly began to sob, hands unconsciously smashing her glasses farther into her face.

Silently, Heinkel took three steps to the distressed young woman. With the creak and sigh of leather and the rustling of cloth, she crouched down in front of the nun, and reached out with a callused hand. Yumiko dropped her own two hands at the other's touch. Heinkel tipped the nun's chin so they were eye to eye. "Vat's your name?" Yumiko searched her friend's face in confusion. "I _said_, vat's your name?"

"T-Tagaki Y-Yumiko...er... I mean, Yumiko Tagaki?" The lapse only served to worsen her mood. She had left her old culture behind; only Yumie clung to their heritage. _Am I forgetting who I am?_

"Da. Not Yumie. That's _her_ name. You are two very different people. Yumie slays heretics, her God-given duty. Yumiko doesn't kill, Yumie does." Yumiko nodded, finally understanding. "Jetzt entspannen Sie sich." The German was beyond the other woman, but she smiled weakly and carefully removed her glasses to wipe her eyes. The familiar feeling of helplessness washed over her, and she tried to keep it at bay. As long as no one tried to hurt her while they were off, she'd be fine.

Heinkel rocked back onto her heels; relieved the girl wasn't going to cry. No, that wasn't fair; the girl was in fact a woman. A haunted one at that. She remained crouched in front of her friend as the nun dried her tears, then they both hung in the comfortable silence of the plain office. Heinkel let it go as long as she possibly could, then abruptly stood up. "It's time. We haf to go. Yumie und I haf a job to do."

Yumiko nodded and stood up, following after the assassin like a ghost.

* * *

Heinkel's boots crunched over the brightly colored leaves that littered the ground. She could faintly pick up the sound of Yumiko's simple shoes as the young woman followed. The nun had been silent for almost the entire trip, only the occasional subdued "Thank you," when someone opened a door for her. 

The assassin judged the distance to their target, then abruptly stopped in her tracks. This was as far as she could safely bring Yumiko. She felt a painful pang of regret as the young nun almost crashed into her from behind. _Poor frau._ Heinkel reached into her long grey coat, brushing her hand over the leather holsters that crisscrossed her black priest's clothing. Her hand came to rest on a very special belt, and she flicked open the catch. From behind her came Yumiko's nervous voice, "H-Heinkel?"

"This ist as far as you can come." The tall blonde pulled Yumie's ebony-sheathed sword from the black depths of her coat, long red cords dragging on the leaves underfoot. Yumiko swallowed hard, and Heinkel heard the snapping of brittle sticks and leaves as she took a step back. "Take off your glasses, Yumiko." The nun reached up with shaking fingers and slipped the lenses from her face, then folded the earpieces and placed them in Heinkel's outstretched palm. The assassin gently tucked them away in an inner pocket, grey eyes impassive behind her own dark glasses. " Ready?"

"Y-Yes"

Fast as lightning, Heinkel whirled around, striking Yumiko across the face with the fist that still clutched the woman's sword. The nun hit the ground, hard, sending up a swirl of fiery leaves. The katana landed next to her with a soft thud.

"Gute Nacht."

Yumie groaned as her world faded into focus. Above her spread a murky grey sky, bordered by trees with tangerine and crimson foliage. She rolled onto her side, and brought a hand up to gingerly inspect her throbbing jaw. She hissed at the painful contact, then used her other elbow to prop herself up. Her eyes flicked to the sword by her side, and the hand prodding her jaw darted out to fasten onto the hilt instead. One thing was for sure; she wasn't in Rome. Her services were rarely required in Italy.

Her eyes searched the road that stretched away, off into the distance. A dark figure was walking down it at a brisk pace, heading away from her. _Heinkel._ The berserker leapt to her feet and jogged to catch up, then easily fell in step with her partner. "Do you _have _to hit so hard?"

The German woman only shrugged.

Yumie sighed, then opened her mouth. However, Heinkel was far ahead of her. "Today's date ist the 24th of September, 1998." The dark haired woman groaned.

"How long…?"

"Three veeks."

"Really?"

"Da. In any case, we are in France. Down this road lies a complex, where eine gruppe of fanatics who vish to summon the Devil are preparing eine ceremony. They intend to sacrifice catholic virgins to Satan in order to coax him to rise. Apparently the Jewish and Christian vomen did not do the trick." Yumie shrugged. _They deserved it. _The faint whisper of wind brushed the pair's hair, the chill lost on them. Heinkel was wearing layers, and no amount of cold could deter the berserker.

"So what is our job?" Yumie slung the blade over her shoulder, right hand resting lazily on the hilt. The crimson cords danced in the breeze, hitting against her leg. The partners walked as they spoke, trudging to a beat marked by the timely crackling of dead leaves.

"We secure the vomen, and silence the Satanists." Heinkel reached into a coat, drawing a revolver from its holster. Some fiddling produced a handful of rounds, and she popped the chamber to load it. The bullets slid into their respective holes, one by one. Heinkel continued on in silence, head bent over her task.

Yumie tightened her grip on her weapon, and then drew it with the hiss of steel. She held it up to the light, inspecting it for any damage that may have occurred during her sleep. The weapon was flawless, made of the finest steel… her fear was illogical. It glinted in the light, throwing a reflection onto the multicolored ground. Lovingly, she ran her palm over the flat of the blade, letting the chill of the cold metal envelop her soul. The fire of redemption must stay dim until the proper time.

The assassin beside her clicked the revolver back together, and it vanished inside her long coat. Next to emerge was the German woman's favorite: her pair of semi-automatic pistols. She angled both guns away from her, enabling her to see right through the chambers of the empty weapons. Once she was assured they were empty, she transferred both to one hand, and produced two full clips. She slammed both into their respective magazines with well-oiled smoothness, and pushed the locks in with the palm of her hand. Her thumb and forefinger cocked one and then the other.

The wooden walls of the compound faded into view, and both increased their speed. Yumie didn't bother to ask if the blasphemers were armed; it did not matter. She would send them to Hell all the same. Heinkel jogged to keep up with the berserker's frenzied pace, and both broke into the clearing simultaneously.

They were met by a tall wooden wall.

* * *

"Damn!" 

Both scuffled to a stop and stared up at the primitive obstacle. Maybe twenty feet in height, the wooden barrier seemed to surround the complex. It was comprised of sturdy logs, lashed together to eliminate any gaps or footholds. Heinkel inspected the barrier without a word, and was only roused from her observation by the faint clang of metal. She sighed, and addressed her friend. "Halt." Yumie did so, and turned to look quizzically at Heinkel over her shoulder. "There's no vay you're going to be able to slice through that much vood."

"How else do you propose we get inside?" Yumie let the tip of the blade hover over the dust that still was settling from their hurried stop.

"We find ein gate." Heinkel moved closer to the wall, until she had to look straight up to see the top. _It's not too far. Ve'll make it_. She knew exactly what Yumie's reply to her solution would be; in fact, she was counting on it.

"I don't have time for this." Yumie took a step back, and then another. Heinkel watched impassively as she launched herself at the log barrier, leaping halfway up its height. The sword thudded into the wood, and Yumie flipped around the handle once, then used her momentum to propel herself over the top. A yank on the cord that was still in her hand caused the blade to follow, and both woman and weapon disappeared from view.

Heinkel only had a few moments to wait before the berserker's head poked over the top, and sighed down at her. "Gah. One second." Some scuffling, and then the katana sailed over the sharpened wooden crown, the strings clutched in Yumie's fingers causing it to arc with surprising force back into the outer face of the wall. Heinkel dashed towards the barrier, running up a couple feet and grabbing on to the makeshift handhold. From there she could reach Yumie's outstretched hand, and the berserker pulled her over the top of the sharpened wooden stakes.

"Here." Heinkel handed the katana back to Yumie, and quickly inspected their new surroundings. She knew the dark-haired woman couldn't contain herself for much longer, and time was of the essence. They stood on a hastily constructed walkway, nearly fifteen feet off the ground. The complex itself was bare, wooden-walled buildings devoid of any personality. Dusty and rocky, the ground seemed determined to complete the dank picture. "No guards…" _Maybe the ceremony hast already begun_? The assassin frowned, suspicious, and raised her guns to chest level. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Yumie starting to shake. _Not yet!_

"Where are those foul _dogs?_" She did not bother sheathing her sword, but simply walked off the edge of the walkway with the naked blade. Heinkel followed, bending her knees to absorb the impact. Pain was slowly losing its hold on Yumie, a sure sign that she in turn was losing any grip she may have ever had. _Yumiko got all the sanity…_

The berserker stalked down the row of buildings, the light of righteousness burning in her eyes. Heinkel shrugged and swept after her, willing to do it Yumie's way. _Ve go in big then._ The place was as empty as an American ghost town, which only seemed to infuriate her partner more. "Where ARE they, the SLIME?" They heard the chanting first, heresy spilling from lips to a haunting rhythm. Then came the hooded figures, winding out of a door in a long line. They trudged slowly, every movement in time to their satanic words. Unnoticed, the section XII agents froze, outraged and disgusted, both being fairly fluent in Latin.

_Rise up from your Prison and claim your Kingdom, great Lord of Destruction!_

"CEASE, BLASPHEMOUS MONGRELS!"

Yumie's cry tore through the melody, and the black-cloaked men and women turned their faces towards the interruption. Heinkel calmly stepped forward, scorn breathing life into her speech. "You are pathetic pieces of vorthless scum, delusional and impure. God will haf no mercy on you, and neither vill the Vatican." She raised both guns and smiled lazily. 

"Now be gute sinners und die quietly." She squeezed the triggers, and two hooded figures' heads exploded in a shower of crimson. The line broke, some running for their lives, others dashing to engage the enemy.

A blur zipped past her, throwing itself upon the dark figures. Silver trails laced Heinkel's vision, and crimson splattered across the ground, droplets forming lacy patterns on the black leather of her boots. The form was rudely smeared as the assassin dashed off, knowing Yumie could handle the bulk of the heretics. It was her own job to finish off the stragglers, and locate the prisoners.

* * *

The time had finally come. 

The sinners screamed and cried, attempting to flee from impending justice. There was no time to run; there was no time to even react. She was too fast for them, flitting through the crowd like Death himself, littering the ground with the fallen. The blade moved like lightning, and the air sung from its passing. They were one in that moment, hot steel and cold flesh.

A man collapsed on the ground, hands trying to stem the violent fountain of red that had sprouted from his chest. Another stood still in shock, then watched his torso slide off his legs, showering the dry earth with crimson life. A wild-eyed woman threw herself at the berserker, and she erupted in an explosion of viscera, showering her comrades with innards. Yumie whirled and leapt, the star in a ballet of retribution. Each jump ended in a splash of scarlet, the ground covered in the blood of God's enemies.

In and out, around and through, the katana spiraled and twisted, regardless of age or gender. They all had done wrong, and must be punished. No mercy. The last, begging mongrel met his swift end with a whirl of her shoulders, and suddenly all was quiet. The Berserker froze, dark hair swishing to a stop. Yumie looked down, and smiled pleasantly at her crimson dress, such an improvement from the usual blue. Her sword too had dressed to match, all traces of silver gone, and the long cords dripping and heavy.

No longer was the wood plain, as well. Bright splashes soaked into the untreated lumber, darkening the walls to a deep cherry. Here and there a corpse marred the color, breaking the uniform paint. Yumie took a wet step forward, and narrowly missed placing her foot on a discarded arm. It's owner lay nearby, weeping as her pathetic life drained away. The woman's killer drifted over, blocking out the grey sky with her jeering face.

"What's wrong heretic? Something pains you?"

The weeping continued, what was left of her wracking with sobs. Yumie grinned, and slowly brought the blade around to hover over the prone Satanist's heaving chest. The woman still managed to scream in terror, and Yumie laughed from the sheer joy of it all.

"Now, go and see the devil you love so much."

The woman only had time to draw breath before the ruby end was upon her.

* * *

Heinkel's heart raced as she thundered around the corner, gaining on the escaping target. He darted around one building and then another, hoping to lose her, but only in vain. She skidded into the clear space between the circle of buildings and the wall, eyes darting around behind her sunglasses to find the robed figure. She found him without much effort. He had scrambled halfway up the wall, the wild look of a trapped animal in his eyes. His fingers bled from scrabbling at the surface. 

The semi-autos entered her field of vision as she aimed, and the weapons flared twice. He fell screaming to the hard ground, writhing in pain and panic. She jogged over, and planted a shot in his head without hesitation. "Wit loff from the Vatican."

He lay still, and she sped off to catch a fleeting vision she'd seen out of the corner of her eye. It led her on a merry chase, until the fleet-footed assassin overtook the cloaked and hooded figure. Heinkel slammed him into a wall, holding him in place with a firm grip on his collar. This forced her to temporarily drop a gun, but this wouldn't take long. He trembled in fear.

"Do you understand English?"

A shaky nod.

"Do you speak it?"

A jerking shake of his head.

"Gute enough. Where are the vomen?"

He stared at her in terror, and she shook him a bit.

"WHERE are the Catholic vomen? Tell me and I vill show you mercy."

He blinked, and opened his mouth. "Dans le bâtiment A23." The reply caused her to shuffle through her limited knowledge of French, and she drew a blank. It was all right. Plain guesswork could deduce what he meant. She impassively brought her arm up and around, pressing her remaining gun into his forehead. He shrieked, and wiggled in her grasp, breaking into a sweat. "Vous avez dit que vous me montreriez la pitié!" Heinkel could only guess at his meaning, but any killer recognized that tone._ "Why!"_

She shrugged impassively, and tensed her finger on the trigger. "No true believer vould deal wit blasphemers, you pathetic little dummkopf. Auf Wiedersehen." She turned her face as not to dirty her lenses, and pulled the trigger. Warmth spilled over her neck and cheek, soaking into the priest's collar she wore. The corpse limply slid to the floor, smearing the rough wood. Heinkel picked up her gun, and her eyes flicked over the number painted over the door. _A17. Still a vays_. She jogged down the row, carefully checking each number as she passed.

_A19, A21, A23!_ Heinkel inspected the door, shrugged, and slammed into it with a foot. It took three tries before the door gave enough to be ready to break. She backed up, and then charged forward, ramming her shoulder into the splintered surface. It exploded inward, and the momentum forced Heinkel into a roll. A faint stab of pain in her shoulder briefly caught her attention, but it disappeared under the influence of battle. She came up on one knee, guns blazing. The guards had little time to move before the shots erupted in their chests, sending both to the floor with a cry.

Three young women were clutching each other in the corner, hanging on for dear life. Heinkel trudged over to them, absently kicking a body out of the way. "It's alright. You're safe now." One of the three looked up, and wept in gratitude.

"Thank you! Oh, we knew God would not abandon us!"

The second joined in, but the third girl stared at Heinkel in horror. "Y-Your arm!" The other two looked up as well, and one shrieked, while the other looked sick. Heinkel turned her head to inspect her shoulder, and nearly brushed her nose on a huge shard of wood protruding from her shoulder. The pain hit her in a staggering wave as the adrenaline wore off, and she nearly stumbled to the floor. Her hand flew to the wound, probing. She winced, and gritted her teeth. _It's bad. Very bad. _

She blinked, and suddenly she was on the ground, and three young heads stared worriedly down at her. Slowly, Heinkel shoved herself into a sitting position, and fastened her hand around the jagged stake. At the first tug it became evident that removing it would be dangerous.

"Es verletzt wie der Teufel!" The three girls looked at each other in confusion. Heinkel stood up, and gestured painfully to the ex-captives. "It vill be fine. Hand me mine veapons und follow." One of them did so, and Heinkel tucked the empty guns into their holsters. No way she could reload at the moment. She drew the revolver with her left, and walked out of the room and into the afternoon sun at a brisk pace. _Those three must keep hope._

_

* * *

_  
Yumie unceremoniously tugged the katana from the woman's shredded chest. Her task was done. The cleansing word of God had been delivered.

She cracked her back, and scanned the bodies for life. Nothing. The dry, barren earth was in fact no longer dry, but covered with a slick layer of reddish mud. Her footing was unstable, so she took special care with each step, and worked her way to the edge of the massacre. She located a clean piece of black material on a fallen foe, and slowly wiped away the flaking burgundy from her weapon, restoring it to its natural blue-silver sheen. She slipped it back into its sheath, and smiled at the hiss of metal on metal.

Yumie leaned against a red wall, in-between two terror-stricken corpses. This elicited a chuckle from her, and then she closed her eyes. Area secure. Waves of ease and cat-like satisfaction washed over her._ Oh yes, I am most definitely the cat that caught the mou-, er, mice_. She breathed deeply, the tension slipping from her shoulders. Now all there was to do was wait for Heinkel.

_-Is it over?-_ Yumiko's groggy voice whispered from the back of her consciousness.

_Yes. For now._ Yumie grinned, relishing Yumiko's uncertain voice. Yes, Yumiko… _my bane, my love, and myself_. She would do anything to protect her other half. But, then again, they never saw eye-to-eye. Personally, she felt Yumiko was useless, a fragile being who could not handle any stress, and unfit for defending their God in battle. Yumiko seemed to think of her as a monster, a creature that only killed in blind rages. What a terrible misconception.

Her rages were _anything_ but blind.

The blood-soaked stupor slowly settled over her, gently turning the edges of her vision black. Yumie sighed, content. She'd only slept four times in her life; twice as a child, once as a teenager, and once as an adult. Maybe she should make that two as an adult. The few times she'd been allowed to do it had been wonderful. _Only a second. There's nothing to worry about… it's safe, and Yumiko's glasses are with Heinkel. Yum…i…ko…_

She tried to open her eyes, but the darkness suddenly surrounded her. This was not the grey softness of sleep, but a deeper, suffocating chasm. This was just like… _Impossible! The glasses! I don't have them on!_

_-What's… what's going on?-_ Yumiko's voice questioned, sleepily.

_I don't know! Fight it, Yumiko! STAY INSIDE! I DON'T WANT YOU TO SEE THIS!_ Her mental cry was desperate, but she could not seem to move her lips, or any other part of herself, for that matter. Was this possible? Was she… going back to sleep?

_YUMIKO!_

_-Yumie? What is it? Is it time to wake up? –_

Slowly, the red-clad figure blinked, opening beautiful brown eyes that had somehow become wider, less severe. Inside the recesses of her mind, another voice screamed for her to close her eyes, to run away.

_-NO! DON'T LOOK! -_

But it was far too late for that.

* * *

Each step was fire. 

The sweat stood out on Heinkel's forehead, and it took everything she had to keep going. _I've got to reach Yumie. The slaughter ought to be over… I need her to get us back to the helicopter. One foot in front of the other. _The three girls trailed behind, still nervous and jumpy. They'd encountered no resistance, a blessing from God.

In what felt like hours, they finally reached the first splatter of blood. The girls gasped, and Heinkel growled for them to stay behind, and to waait until she came for them. They did not need to see this. She was the one who served her God, and was paid to have nightmares.

So it was alone that she painfully trudged into the clearing, and came upon a sight that would haunt her nights for years afterward.

Initially, it was too much for her overworked brain to comprehend. Dazedly, she wondered why Yumie had decided to play with fingerpaints, because she'd gone and gotten red all over the walls, the ground, and the lumps. _Lumps? Oh, Mein Gott._ The "lumps" were fragments of men and women, strewn across the clearing. Severed faces stared up at her with expressions of utter terror, heretical eyes glazed over with the film of death. Heinkel looked down, and noted with detached interest that there was a shoe lying next to her, and the late owner had neglected to remove his foot from the leather.

She also discovered that she was very close to being sick.

Now normally, this would have had little effect on her, but the shoulder wound was starting to make her faint, and quite dizzy. _I'm losing lots oft blood._ The dazzling burgundy coating seemed to cover the world, and briefly Heinkel wondered if it was the destruction, or if her vision was turning crimson. It took some squinting before she could pick out Yumie. The berserker seemed to be leaning against a wall, eyes closed, breathing steady. The assassin began to make her way across the slaughter to her partner, carefully avoiding innards here, a stained cloth there.

Heinkel made it about halfway when Yumie opened her eyes. The berserker looked around in confusion, and then a look of petrified horror claimed her face. The sheathed katana slid from her limp fingers, and clattered to the ground. Yumie began to tremble, then looked down at her own bloody hands.

Then Yumie screamed. A high, piercing shriek.

Heinkel picked up her pace, then froze when she realized what was happening. _That isn't Yumie_. She felt the color drain from her face, and she staggered back, nearly trodding on a butchered corpse._ No… it can't be!_ The glasses were a comforting weight in her pocket, the key to the change. _Not anymore. Gute Gott_. The assassin froze, mind in turmoil, body suspended.

Yumiko's head whipped to the side, only to see the body leaning against the wall. She screamed again, and backpedaled, only to lose her balance and fall into the ruby lap of the corpse behind her. She thrashed and writhed, screeching at the top of her lungs, trying to free herself from invisible hands. Heinkel launched forward, falling to her knees in front of the hysterical nun. "Yumiko! Stop, Yumiko!" She reached out and grabbed the woman's wrists, pulling her off the dead man. The nun sobbed, trembling and speaking a mile-a-minute in a panicked, high-pitched voice. "Yumiko! Listen to me! You haf to calm down und come vith me!"

"Heinkel!" Yumiko threw herself on her friend, the only rock in her sea of terror. She clutched the woman tightly, sobbing into her bloody shirt. "Heinkel-Heinkel-Heinkel-…" The assassin grimaced at the eruption of pain and wooziness from her grip and the rapid movements. Fainting was starting to become an unwelcome possibility. They had to get out of here before she collapsed. First, she carefully collected Yumie's katana in her bad hand. Then Heinkel hooked her good arm under Yumiko's hold on her waist, gaining her own grasp upon the woman. She staggered to her feet, dragging the nun with her.

"Yumiko, listen carefully. I'm going to take you avay. Close your eyes, und DO NOT LOOK." Yumiko nodded without removing her face from Heinkel's shirtfront, and they began their journey back to the girls. The going was slow, Heinkel taking extra care to find a clear path for both her and Yumiko to follow. Occasionally they had to pause so Heinkel could stop her world from spinning, but then the terrified nun would whimper, and they would continue on.

In what seemed like an eternity, they left the massacre behind.

The girls gasped upon seeing them, gathering around like buzzards.

"She's covered in… blood!"

"Oh, my Lord!"

"Is she hurt?"

"Nein." Heinkel ducked her head, and whispered to Yumiko, who had gone limp in her arms. "Come on, freund, you need to valk. Yumiko?" The nun had fainted, traumatized. There was only one thing for it. _God, give me strength_. Heinkel let the blade drop to the ground. "You, pick that up." The indicated girl did so, nervously clutching it to her chest. It slowly stained her virginal white dress cherry.

Heinkel knelt down, and let Yumiko slip into a prone position. She slid her bad arm under the woman's legs, and the other snaked around the nun's back. Heinkel lurched back up, putting as much weight as she could on her left arm, sparing her right. Still, the limb felt like it might leave its socket. She grunted in exertion and strain, blinking sweat out of her eyes. It would take a miracle to make this work. _I vill MAKE it vork._

* * *

Jack Grenning sat back in his pilot's chair, absently puffing on a cigarette. The headphones were on his head, but the radio was silent. No passing aircraft had noticed anything out of the ordinary. Thank goodness. He put his feet up, careful not to accidentally flip a switch or push a button. Maybe he could catch a nap. 

The figures in the distance immediately nullified that option.

There were five. Three were walking, each one clad in brilliant white. Another stumbled along in front of them, holding the fifth. He didn't recognize the three in white, but assumed them to be the hostages. The tall blonde was Heinkel, and she was carrying that sweet nun. Both were drenched in red.

He managed to tangle himself in cords in his struggle to spring out of the helicopter, and hopped around desperately on one foot in order to free himself. After banging his head three times, he managed to half leap, half fall onto the leafy ground, just in time to see the tall blonde figure collapse. The three girls in white cried out, falling to their knees to attend to the pair. Jack set off at a fast jog, toting the medical kit. _I hope I'm not too late!_

The legs of a man in jeans and cowboy boots were the last things Heinkel saw before she gave way to exhaustion. _Safe. Thank Gott. _


	3. Penitent

A/N: Hello again, all!

It's been ages since I last wrote anything, due to a very scary mental crisis. I'm recovering from a very difficult time, and in celebration of this re-entering of the world, I decided to bust my butt and put out another chapter of Repentance. WhoooHoo! I apologise, however, that this one is very short, nor do I feel it's as good as the first two. But Hell, I wrote it and I'm posting it, dammit! Thanks again to those of you who have reviewed, certainly more than I had expected, especially because of the rating. Thanks! It's good to be back...

**Disclaimer**: You guys know the drill.

* * *

-Yumiko, stop it. This is best. -

"No. Never again."

-It'll make you feel better… you can sleep… Yum-

"Never. Again. Not for you, not for me, not for Maxwell… not… n-not…"

-Don't say it, Yumiko. -

"… not for God."

-Yumiko…-

The nun clasped trembling hands, pressing until her knuckles had drained to white. Her nails, clean from a recent washing, dug into the backs of her hands, vermillion droplets welling around her fingers. The pain brought tears to her eyes, and she squeezed them shut. _I deserve this. I'm such a monster… all those people… my hands…_

-You don't deserve this, you stupid girl. I am the monster, those were my hands. You're just the vessel. It was God's judgment. Now stop thinking so hard and let me OUT. Sleep for a while. You need it. -

"I'm not tired, Yumie. I just woke up."

-You disgust me, some days. You need real rest, with no dreams, no worries, to heal. -

Yumiko let out a whimper as the nails dug deeper, and tears rolled down her face. A crimson trail ran down her wrist, the barest stream of blood. _Blood…_

_

* * *

_  
Black. Just black.

She was rocking, slowly, and her head was resting on a tortuously hard surface. Her mind rolled around in her skull, sending waves of nausea down her body to the pit of her stomach. Everything was quiet, but a deep rumbling shook the floor and pounded in her ears. _Where am I? Where is everything? Where's Heinkel? What happened?_

She dragged her eyelids back, fighting the velvet unconsciousness. Images wrapped her muddy brain, and it struggled to make sense of them. _Green metal… a rolling sensation… that rumbling… Heinkel!  
_  
Indeed, the woman was propped against a metal wall, hunched over and seemingly asleep. Certainly not dead, as the smoke from her cigarette blew out of her mouth with reassuring force. Yellow straps hung from a low, curved ceiling, metal buckles swaying to and fro. One of these bumped softly against Heinkel's lowered head, and she batted it away in agitation. The woman took a quick look around, and spotted Yumiko staring at her in confusion.

Heinkel's mouth moved, and she smiled ever-so-slightly. Then her lips continued to dance, and several seconds passed before Yumiko realized why there was no sound. Heinkel was being drowned out, but by what?

It all hit her at once. The fragments her senses had provided were finally fitted together by her tired mind, and Yumiko blinked, amazed at her own confusion. A helicopter. She was lying down in a helicopter.

The noise of air and rotating blades combined crashed into her eardrums with the force of an avalanche, bashing her brain into even more disarray. Yumiko's hands flew to her ears, and she rolled around on the floor in sudden agony. A quick hand darted out and pressed her to the floor, ceasing her thrashing. Slowly, the noise became less, and Yumiko opened her eyes once more.

Heinkel crouched over her, an annoyed and worried frown drawn on her face. She removed the hand on Yumiko's chest, and yelled over the roar, "Are you okay?" The nun nodded, and opened her mouth to ask where they might possibly be, and why she was here. Her eye caught on Heinkel's right shoulder, and the bloody bandage wrapped there. The question died on her lips, as the memories rushed back, visions of frozen faces and walls painted burgundy. Men and women, butchered with her own hands. She looked down at herself, and quickly closed her eyes, the scarlet regalia confirming her nightmare. The midnight sleep claimed her again, drowning out Heinkel, the helicopter, her headache… but this time, the velvet was stained red.

* * *

Her own cry of anguish woke her from the memory, and she wept from pain and guilt. Her hands throbbed, calling forth tears from her chest, and spilling blood over her wrists. _NO! NEVER AGAIN!_

-Yumiko… you can't stop it. This is our purpose. You were born to carry me, and when I was born, it was to destroy His enemies, and protect you, with our hands. There is no shame in that. What higher calling and honor is there? -

How can there be honor in murder?

-Destroying His detractors is not murder. -

The ache started again, lines of pain winding up her arms. She opened her eyes, staring at a blurry world. Her eyes widened in shock and despair as she felt the distinct absence of her glasses upon her nose. _NO!_

She screamed again as the fingers of darkness grasped at her consciousness, pulling her deep inside, and releasing something else. _NO!_

_

* * *

_  
The black curtain fell away, and Yumie ripped at the gauze barrier with the force of a tiger. _This is for your own good, Yumiko. Sleep now_.

-NO! Yumie, don't do this! Please! - Yumiko screamed out from the depths of their head, beating at walls no fist could break. She was powerless now. Yumie stood, slowly, rivers of blood running down her hands to drip on the floor. A frantic knocking sounded on her door, likely the good sister stationed outside to prevent exactly this. The berserker stretched, extending hands up to the ceiling, and staining her cuffs crimson. A clumsy scratching and clicking emanated from the lock, the door slowly cracked open, and a breathless nun whispered, "Sister Yumiko?"

Yumie grinned, the perfect expression of the benevolent predator. This poor sister had probably been warned of Yumiko's special… 'gift'… and was most likely scared out of her wits. Maxwell needn't worry; there was no reason to punish the faithful. The woman would not be hurt. Yumie called out softly, "Come in, I'm fine."

The door swung open the rest of the way, and a plump woman clutching her pounding heart stepped in the door. "My goodness, I was quite frightened! I heard you scream, are you- Sister Yumiko! You're hurt!" She rushed toward Yumie, who simply reached up and tore the wimple from her head, discarding the infernal thing on the bed.

The nun stopped dead in her tracks, and then took a step back. "Yo-you're not Sister Yumiko… y-you're Y-Y…"

"Yumie."

The petrified nun froze. _Like a rabbit… _

"I'm going for a walk, sister. Excuse me." Yumie stepped towards the door, curling cherry-stained fingers.

The brave sister shook her head, even as she began to tremble. "No. You have to stay here. Let me see your hands…"

Yumie closed her eyes and shook her head, then threw herself forward, seizing the unfortunate woman by the arm and flinging her onto the cot, then sliding out of the door. The berserker slammed the door shut with a shoulder, and then took ahold of the handle. First, she gently clicked it shut, then drove her arm down with sudden violence, bending the handle out of shape as to make it unusable.

Screams ripped out from the improvised jail, and Yumie smiled, silently congratulating herself on a job well done. She started down the corridor, soft shoes padding on the slick marble. Now to find Heinkel, then get some air. _We need to talk._

_

* * *

_  
Heinkel shuffled the cards, laminated paper sliding swiftly through her fingers. They pooled into a haphazard pile on the old, beaten table, but were then gathered into a deck with the swipe of a hand. She leaned forward and placed them with a soft thud on the middle of the surface, grunting at the strain on her shoulder.

"Somefing 'urt?" The concerned query came from a British "peasant" who'd come to Rome to find God. He said he missed betting. Kindred spirit.

"Old var vound, you could say."

"I see. Got one meself, in me leg."

Her booted feet swung up to cross on the edge of the wood, chair tipping back on two legs to accommodate the odd angle. Heinkel had already tucked her sunglasses away in a pocket; the light here was dim, and one needed to see to play Blackjack. The lit cigarette dangling from her lips released a stream of thin, blue smoke into the tobacco-thick air. "Whose deal ist it?"

"Mine." A nervous man who'd been chain-smoking the entire game leaned over and clumsily laid out the cards. Heinkel glanced down at her own, and then let out a smog-laden breath. _Six oft hearts und…_ She lifted the other with her gloved hand, the fingers cut away and rolled back. These were her spare pair- her other ones had religious messages scrawled on the backs. Vatican issue. This pair she wore now were black cyclist's gloves, ragged and beaten from use._ … Und a 2_ _of_ _clubs_. _Acht_.

"Hit me."

Her other pair was also covered in blood. _Blood… Yumie. Yumiko._

_

* * *

_  
His eyebrow was twitching.

That was how she knew when she'd gone too far. It was the sort of glare Maxwell gave her when he was about to cut her pay. Needless to say, she hated that look. Heinkel treated herself to a nice long blink. None of that mattered. She had to see Yumiko for herself, or she'd drive herself mad with worry… no, concern? That wasn't quite right either. She'd waited for several months, giving the girl plenty of time, in her own opinion. Now she wanted to check on Yumiko.

"Heinkel, Yumiko needs this time to speak with herself, Yumie, God, and her therapist. Are you Yumiko?" His teeth were gritted. Enrico was fighting to stay calm. Frankly, she was impressed; he usually lost it by now.

"No." Heinkel remained motionless in the hard wooden chair, resisting the urge to scoot back, away from his rabid face. They were alone in the office, which was actually one of the plainest in the building. Nobody could accuse Father Enrico Maxwell of a love of excess. Then again, no one could accuse Heinkel of earning a decent living working for him, either.

"Are you Yumie?" Behind Maxwell, Father Renaldo shifted his weight from one foot to the other, the silent man obviously becoming bored with this banter. Heinkel allowed herself a smirk, mentally scolding her senses. Of course they weren't alone; Renaldo was there. He was always there. Maybe the painkillers were getting to her head. She'd have to stop taking them.

"No." Behind her sunglasses, her eyes darted around the room, plain plaster walls providing no distraction. Only the wooden cross on the wall managed to hold her attention for any amount of time. She inspected every line, tuning out Maxwell's ranting, only giving him enough thought to answer him occasionally with an expressionless "no".

"Are you God?" The delicate markings had not been painted over, but instead the wood had been stained a deep mahogany. The craftsmanship was incredibly fine; her careful scrutiny could detect no rough edges, no scratches. Maybe Maxwell really could be convicted of earthly greed.

"No." Did he think her answer might be "yes"? Heinkel found herself amused at the look that might cross the Father's face if she presumed to answer in the affirmative. His emerald eyes would fill with shock and disbelief, his body would freeze, that infernal twitching would cease. Oh, well.

"And you are not her therapist. Therefore, you have no business in Sister Yumiko's presence at this time." The leader of Section XII sank down into his own hard wooden chair, head in hands. "Is that all?" Heinkel felt a brief flash of pity. Yes, this man was a harsh employer, and a merciless fanatic, but despite it all, she felt a certain fondness for him. His heart was in what was close to the right place. Besides, she was no real judge of piety.

"Da. I vill leave you, then, Father Maxvell, Father Renaldo." She rose from her seat, giving each a respectful nod before quietly leaving the room. There was nothing else to be said. He wouldn't let her see Yumiko… and she'd just have to deal with it.

The door shut with a soft click, but not before she heard Maxwell sigh.

* * *

There was a faint slap as the jittery dealer placed the requested card in front of Heinkel, summoning her back to the present. The Jack of Hearts stared arrogantly up at her, making her face-up cards equal twelve. _Achtzehn in all. Perfect_. Her eyes lazily scanned the three other sets of cards. The dealer had fourteen showing, and was digging in his pocket for another cigarette. The British man was scowling in agitation at his visible twelve, flicking his thumb on the edge of his hidden card. Lastly, the fourth player in this little game was busily taking another swig out of an amber bottle, probably oblivious to the seventeen in front of him. 

The assassin flicked the ash off her cigarette, studying the glowing end before replacing it between her lips. "Vell, then…"

"'It me!" The British fellow threw his unrevealed card back down, and the dealer tossed him another with shaking fingers: the eight of diamonds. The unfortunate man threw up his hands in agitation, and growled, "Bust! Dam' it awl!" His final total was twenty-three, a near miss. _How frustrating. Too bad._

Heinkel flipped hers over with an index finger, and then the drunkard clumsily followed suit. His seventeen was joined by a four, twenty-one. The assassin gathered her pile up with the pass of a hand. Unless the dealer could match it, the game belonged to him.

Realizing the 'gravity' of the situation, the dealer began to shiver, and chew on his cigarette. Heinkel suppressed the urge to roll her eyes. Trembling, he drew a card, and placed it next to his own. _I don't know vhy he bothers. He's lost. Idiot._ Her gaze wandered away to the window across from her, the velvet night studded with the few lights in the city. _Cold streets_.

_Lost… Streets…_

_

* * *

_  
Clunk.

Clunk.

Clunk…

Her breath trailed behind her, a mix of frost and smoke. The assassin's hands were jammed deep into two exterior pockets of her coat, which was buttoned closed against the chill. It was mid January, and about 8° C. In retrospect, it probably wasn't the best night for a walk. Then again, after her 'discussion' with Maxwell, Heinkel wasn't too worried about a little cold.

The streets flashed by her unnoticed, abandoned in the face of the frigid evening. Most of the nightlife had retreated to the safe, sinful warmth of bars and clubs that sprouted in any city. They were a shameful class of weed here, in this most holy of places. In any case, only a ragged beggar remained huddled in her path. He had buried his wrinkled face in a tattered fur coat, and only a reddened nose and a pair of beady eyes braved the frosty air. "Good evening…" She scuffed to a stop, and towered over him at her full height of over 6 feet. The man stuttered for a second, unsure of the proper way to address a woman in priest's clothing.

After it became clear he was too flustered to speak, Heinkel silently moved on. Why waste time standing there while he stuttered? Besides, it was cold as death, and even the neon glow of a nearby strip club was beginning to become appealing. Maybe she could find a quiet little tavern to haunt.

She bent her head against a sudden wind, and shuddered at the icy bite. Her feet continued to move, and she trudged past the lights, past the muffled sounds of merriment, and finally to a stop in front of a little brick place, with a faded sign and peeling paint.

The air inside the place was laden with smoke and the sour hint of alcohol.

It did not take long for Heinkel to locate a running game of Blackjack, and less time to join it.

* * *

A monstrous crash made Heinkel jump, and she swung her torso around to the door, hand diving for a revolver. A sudden hush settled over the tavern, as all the inhabitants turned to look at the source of the noise; the front door. 

There stood Yumie, hair and skirts still settling from her hurried entrance. She had one hand planted on the thick wooden door, slammed open as wide as it would go. The berserker stepped into the bar, her footsteps muffled on the mat inside the threshold. Fierce eyes darted around the room, searching.

Heinkel groaned quietly and rubbed her face, then swung her feet down to the floor with a deafening clunk in the silent room. Yumie's head swung around and focused on her friend's tired form, and then the berserker's lips twisted into a delighted grin.

Slowly, the conversation began again, and the noises of drunken revelry rose up to brush the roof. Yumie wove her way over to Heinkel's table, moving as a tall shadow behind the assassin. Heinkel pulled her dark glasses out of her coat pocket, and quietly excused herself to the other players. "I haf to go. Guten Nacht." She rose from her seat, sweeping after Yumie, who was already headed for the door._ I vonder vat the hell this ist about.  
_  
"You two come as a pair? Got a motel room down the street." A heavy hand seized Yumie's right arm, dragging her over to a stool at the bar. The Berserker snarled at the drunken leer of some middle-aged man, until she seemed to catch his meaning. Heinkel, of course, couldn't blame him; what else could a pair of women dressed as a nun and a priest be doing here? Besides, Yumie had discarded Yumiko's wimple. Yumie's snarl vanished, and her muscles tensed. Her eyes slid into pinpoint focus, centering on the disastrous man before her. Heinkel also tensed. _Shit. I know that look._

"Prostitution is a _sin_." The black curtain of hair swished to a stop, and Yumie's head slowly twisted to face the drunk. He stared at her blankly, his hand still clutching her navy sleeve. Heinkel threw her arm forward, breaking the contact and then encircling Yumie's waist. "Come on," she growled, and then laboriously hauled her out of the front door into the frosty January night.

The drunk, unaware of how close to death he had just come, waved his arm for another round.

* * *

"Finding you was a pain." 

They retraced Heinkel's earlier steps, passing by where the bum had wished the German woman a good evening. He was gone, vanished like he had never been. Heinkel gave Yumie a sidelong glance, and caught the faint smile on the berserker's face.

"I don't vant to know how you did it, freund." Then Heinkel couldn't be blamed when the bodies were found. Maxwell, of course, would throw a fit. Not only was Yumiko out of her chamber, and Yumie was out on the streets. Worse, Yumie was with her, after Maxwell had taken the trouble of giving Heinkel such an excellent lecture on leaving Yumiko alone. _Vonderbar._

"So, vhy the hell are you here?"

"I needed to get out. It's been ages, hasn't it?"

"Da. Vier Monate."

"What?"

"Four months. It's January, of 1999."

Yumie shook her head, and sighed. "I hate missing so much."

Heinkel blew out a cloud of smoke, and it slipped over her shoulder to vanish behind her. "I'm sorry." Her voice was quiet, barely above a whisper.

"Happy New Year, then."

"Happy New Year, mein freund."


End file.
